


Writer's Block

by crankyoldman



Category: Final Fantasy IV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crankyoldman/pseuds/crankyoldman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward sometimes gets writers blocks when trying to compose epic heroic songs. Thankfully he gets inspiration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Writer's Block

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seventhe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhe/gifts).



_These times were war times. He stood tall, shield and sword in hand, a beacon of light awaiting the onslaught._

Edward sighed and scribbled out the line. How was he going to write a proper poem of the epic exploits of one, King Cecil Harvey if he kept coming up with utter tripe?

_Edward was surprised to find that Cecil was in his chambers, very deliberately waiting clothed only in a_

He scribbled that part out faster and then crumpled up the paper for good measure. No, _that_ was the last thing he needed to be thinking about while he was a guest in Baron. An honored guest, who was supposed to present a verse of his song in front of the court in less than a day.

"It's hopeless."

"What's hopeless?"

He nearly jumped out of his chair at the sound of Cecil's voice. He'd thought at first his overactive imagination had gotten the better of him again, but no, he was standing in the doorway. Edward righted his cap and stood tall before bowing.

"Edward, why are you so formal? There is no etiquette between friends."

"Cecil, I have writer's block. My voice is fine, but a voice needs something to sing about and I have nothing and I have to present before your court _tomorrow_."

Cecil--nervously? was the man ever nervous?--shifted his weight and looked out the window. A lovely day really. Nothing particularly good for inspiration, though.

"Do you need help?"

Help? Well, it was nice to have Cecil here, alone, but it wasn't like he knew anything about writing epic songs or poems. Still, he didn't exactly want to ask him to go or anything.

"Company would be appreciated, but I don't know how much help you would be."

Cecil pulled over a chair next to him and sat down. There was something almost wistful about him. Distracted? Perhaps they had both been reluctant to jump back into the politics of ruling. Edward missed wandering, but he knew that if he simply wandered off as a bard his kingdom would be in more than physical ruins.

"You know, it's very hard to describe your deeds without sounds cliche. It's like you're what happens when a hero steps out of storybooks."

Cecil laughed, the kind that suggested he was mildly uncomfortable with the statement more than finding it humorous. Edward had never really seen him so open; unarmored in a simple tunic and tights, and his emotions plain. Perhaps it was hard to live up to so many people's expectations; had he ever really done that much for himself?

Damacyan was so much more progressive on that front, to say the least.

"If you say so."

"You know, maybe that's the problem. Maybe I need to see more of you as... as a man."

Cecil visibly reddened a little and looked away. And here Edward has assumed after talking with Rosa recently that Cecil was dense. Well, he wasn't going to let his chance get away from him. Cecil had conveniently closed the door to his small but well-furnished room in the tower.

"Cecil, look at me."

He did, his cheeks no longer flushed. It was now or never. Edward had once been told that he kissed rather delicately, as if the person he were kissing would evaporate at any moment. And it was no different when he kissed Cecil then; after all, he was very likely to stand up and leave the room and pretend like it hadn't happened. It was a meek invitation, really.

Edward really should have known that former dark knights went into things fully once their decision was made. He was nearly knocked off his chair the way that Cecil kissed back.

And naturally he didn't stop there. Edward quickly worked the laces on Cecil's tights loose, but Cecil stopped him halfway. He made a small noise of protest; Edward knew what he was doing after all.

"You need to write, Edward." There was something almost devious in his tone.

And as he slid down to his knees, eyes level with Edward's... area, it became obvious what he was thinking about. And to think that there had been untrue rumors that Edward had brought queens to their knees, only to have brought a king to his.

Once it became clear that Edward wasn't going to have to tell Cecil what to do, he picked up his pen again. The inspiration came fairly quickly.

\---

"And here is where we end our tale, I bid you all a fond farewell."

Edward got more than polite applause, considering that he'd not only written a verse, but practically the entire epic. There would be revisions of course, but he had debuted a work of _art_.

Judging by the look that Cecil had given him before he'd turned placid again, giving him the usual polite thanks, it looked like there was more inspiration to come later.

Only this time, _he_ was going to play the muse.


End file.
